Slipping closer to the end
With every breath I take
Coming apart at the seems
The reaper is hard to shake
I have withered and grown worn
Time is taking it's toll
Rapidly fading into nothing
My childhood has been stole
I thought I was eternal
I thought I'd never die
I was told I could be anything
If I would only try
The future has become the present
I'm no longer in my prime
I have never achieved my dreams
And I'm running out of time
How can I be happy?
When I'm inevitably going to cease
I see the vultures start to gather
Waiting for they're feast
I will become nothing more
Than an infested mound
Making a new home
In the cold wet ground
I feel deaths boney hand on my shoulder
Every time I quiver in pain
I know that I will not win
When I play the reapers game
By LukeCoomer ©
- Author: LukeCoomer ( Offline)
- Published: January 21st, 2018 21:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: poetboy123
Comments1
A well written piece on a stark reality!
Thanks so much!
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